


50/50

by funny_little_brains



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Family, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Parenthood, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 02:23:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funny_little_brains/pseuds/funny_little_brains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John's son Hamish is born. The only catch: they don't know which one is the biological father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	50/50

"Sherlock! Quick, right turn at-" John winces as the car turns sharply, sending him crashing against the window. "Bloody h- you can't turn now, it's red!" 

Sherlock ignores him. "How long do we have?" 

John repeats the question into the cell phone. "Anywhere between 15 and 30 minutes, most likely. And we're"- he checks his watch- "20 minutes away, if we don't get killed first." As if to illustrate his point, Sherlock suddently jerks the wheel, sending the car into a barely controlled skid around a particularly tight corner. Despite supposedly having nerves of steel from his years in the army, John takes a sharp breath and his eyes widen in alarm.

"I can make it 10 minutes," Sherlock says icily, "if you'll stop gasping every time I make a turn." 

John sighs. "Yes, we'll be right there," he tells the person on the other end. "Tell Susannah we're on our way." He flips the phone shut.

Somehow, through a combination of skillful driving and sheer recklessness, Sherlock cuts the trip down to ten minutes, and they skid into the hospital parking lot at 4:52 p.m. They rush inside, and exactly 14 minutes later, at 5:06 p.m., Hamish Timothy Watson-Holmes is born. The doctor holds the baby out, and John takes his son into his arms for the first time. 

He is so tiny, so fragile, and so his that John thinks he could burst with happiness. He's vaguely aware that there must be doctors and nurses rushing about, but right now all that exists is the delicate, squalling bundle in his arms and Sherlock pressing against his shoulder, one arm wrapped around his waist. 

"He's beautiful," Sherlock murmurs, reaching down to stroke the newborn's forehead. Though Hamish is only minutes old, he could swear he looks just like John- they have the same open face and gentle eyes.

John cradles Hamish in his arms before turning to look up at Sherlock. "Do you want to hold him?" Sherlock nods mutely, and folds Hamish into the crook of his elbow with the same kind of care as when he's examining a particularly vital piece of evidence. Only instead of seeing the glint of somewhat vindictive joy in his eyes, John sees only tenderness in his husband's gaze as he watches Hamish weakly waving a fist in the air. He really looks just like Sherlock, John thinks to himself. He's almost certain that Hamish already has the same startling verdigris eyes and high cheekbones as his father. Sherlock looks down to meet John's gaze. He smiles. 

"He looks just like you," they both blurt out, then stare at each other in surprise. Of course, they can't both be the biological father. After much deliberation, they had decided that instead of choosing, they would both donate sperm and the doctors would choose randomly, without telling them. A 50/50 chance, John had said, smiling ruefully as the numbers bring back the memory of his first case with Sherlock, when he killed a man to prevent Sherlock from taking his chances with the pill (was it the good bot'le or the bad bot'le? No one will ever know). That night was their first kiss, while high on adrenaline and drunk on their own good fortune. The next time, they were both fully in control of their own senses, or at least as much as they could be, this being a retired army doctor with a psychosomatic limp and a self-diagnosed sociopathic detective. And then one thing led to another, and a few months later Sherlock was on one knee (at a crime scene, of course, within twenty feet of a dead body with bloody words carved into it, but to John it could have been the most romantic place on earth). And then came Sherlock slipping the ring onto his finger with all their friends looking on (you may now kiss the groom) and taking a brief honeymoon before returning to where they both secretly wanted to be all along- 221b Baker Street. And although married life was blissfully happy, John immediately knew what was missing (it took Sherlock somewhat longer to figure it out, but he got there). The process wasn't easy, but eventually they found their surrogate, Susannah, one of few people capable of putting up with Sherlock almost as well as John. And though Sherlock outwardly scoffed at the name-choosing process- "a sentimental exercise of little importance"- John caught him more than once browsing through baby-name books. They finally chose Hamish Timothy for a boy, Madeleine Victoria for a girl. In the end, it was all so worth the struggle to be holding a son in their arms.

John looks at Sherlock in confusion. "But- look at him- he looks just like you!" he exclaims. 

Sherlock frowns. "No, of course not, he clearly has your genes. A Watson, for certain." He kisses Hamish's forehead. 

"He's perfect," John whispers, all arguments stopped short by a glance at this delicate, wriggling bundle. 

"Of course he's perfect. He's you." Sherlock says, but his snippy tone is unable to disguise the tenderness in his voice. 

John can't help but smile. "You can't deny that he has your eyes." Sherlock just shakes his head and continues staring intently at the baby, transfixed by his every tiny movement.  
John stands on his tiptoes to kiss his husband on the cheek. "Then I guess we'll just have to agree he's ours." And for now, at least, that is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it!


End file.
